We passed into a tangle of gooseberry bushes where, at
his statesmanlike example, we crawled on all fours, and regained
the hedge.
Here we lay up, secure in our alibi.
"But your firm,"--the woman was wailing to the furniture removals
men--"your firm promised me everything should be in yesterday.
And it's to-day! You should have been here yesterday!"
"The last tenants ain't out yet, lydy," said one of them.
Lord Lundie was rapidly improving in technique, though
organ-grinding, unlike the Law, is more of a calling than a
trade, and he hung occasionally on a dead centre. Giuseppe, I
think, was singing, but I could not understand the drift of Sir
Christopher's remarks. They were Spanish.
The woman said something we did not catch.
"You might 'ave sub-let it," the man insisted. "Or your gentleman
'ere might."
"But I didn't. Send for the Police at once."
"I wouldn't do that, lydy. They're only fruit pickers on a beano.
They aren't particular where they sleep."
"D'you mean they've been sleeping there? I only had it cleaned
last week.
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